Overdrive
by KrazyMusician
Summary: One fabulous medic, one thrill-seeking street racer. What's the harm in a bit of competition? KnockoutxOC TFP. More inside.
1. I: Pedal to the Metal, Face to the Floor

Overdrive

**A/N: Summary: Knockout is good at what he does—fighting, medical work, and racing. He likes to win, and definitely likes to be seen while doing it. When an accident with a human street racer occurs, the last thing he expects is for the flesh-bag to offer fixing his paint job in exchange for a rematch. A little friendly competition never hurt anyone…right? Unfortunately for Knockout, things are infinitely more complicated that how they appear on the surface. Competition always sparks chaos. Knockout x OC (Prime-verse)**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro.**

_I don't know who you are_

_Mystery drenches my brain_

_Save all flame that we'll light_

_Sometimes it's more fun to fight_

_-Slash, "Beautiful Dangerous"_

_**Chapter 1: Petal to the Metal, Face to the Floor**_

Nothing quite sent sparks through Knockout like the feeling of hitting maximum speed, the rest of the world stripping away until nothing existed but his vehicle mode and the gravel beneath it. It felt like freedom. Of course, the ambitious group of flesh-bags he raced every few weeks added a bonus—easy supply of competition. Unlike his fellow Decepticons, they never seemed to grow bored of trying to beat him. Breakdown had long since stopped racing with him many vorns ago, and it had left an empty void in the medic.

Street racing posed a risk to everything—ruining his cover, creating a lead for the Autobots—and that was exactly the reason he loved it.

"_Knockout, come in_," a deep voice boomed through his intercom, shooting straight through his focus.

He only faltered for a second at the sound of Breakdown's message, but it gave his current flesh-bag rival enough time to shoot past him, taking the lead. With a sigh, Knockout worked his way to the inner part of the track, tailing dangerously on the bumper of the car in front. The human's vehicle had nicked him on the front left side with that maneuver, and he made a mental note to scrap the pathetic life form later for daring ruin his new paint job.

"I'm kinda busy, Breakdown. Can't this wait?"

"_Out racing the flesh-bags again_?"

"Hey, I don't intrude on what _you_ do in your free time, big guy."

A sigh on the other end of the line came as his only response at first. "_Megatron's going to pound you into scrap metal if you keep sneaking off like this on leisure trips_…"

"Hold that thought—"

Knockout smirked inwardly as he proceeded to slam into the vehicle at just the right angle to send it fishtailing off the track. "As you were saying?"

"_Just watch out for yourself, Knockout_."

The sports car emitted a sarcastic huff. "Yes, _dear_."

Although he couldn't see the blue 'con's face, he could practically feel the larger mech rolling his optics over their comm. link.

As he shot across the finishing point for the fifth time in a row that night, his processor filled with euphoria. Some of the human onlookers cheered, while other racers stared on in a mix of amazement and envy—determination to win radiated off of them like a beacon. Knockout could care less what these puny flesh-lings thought of him, as long as they continued to service his need to compete.

The other Decepticons pitied him for lacking their infamous air power; they associated a ground mode with an easy target. However, none of them ever seemed to use their flight modes to their advantage for the simple enjoyment of travel. Army life proved painfully monotonous; he wondered how the eradicons dealt with it. _Primus_, the medic needed an escape from the daily demands of serving in the forces—Megatron's ranting, Starscream's whining, Soundwave's constant surveillance—it had nearly driven him mad.

What could be the harm in a little thrill seeking in between missions, anyway? Unsuspecting humans hardly posed a challenge to a twenty-five foot tall robot. They only gathered out here in the middle of nowhere at night to make money off of bets and engage in a bit of illegal fun. Everyone stayed out of everyone else's business. Much to the medic's liking, there wasn't an Autobot in sight.

By the time Knockout returned to the _Nemesis_, he suspected, no one besides his medical assistant would even realize he had left.

He had no idea how that thought would backfire on him later that night, especially when that Autobots' scout decided to make a personal appearance.

* * *

At first Avery thought she was hallucinating when she saw them bolt across the gravel, a bright yellow Camaro followed by a sleek red vehicle firing _lasers_. Careening down a dirt path at ninety-plus miles-per-hour at night tended to obstruct one's vision, after all. However, things quickly became apparent the moment her opponent's car blasted across the track, hurdling toward her with rapid speed. Without thinking, she slammed her foot down all the way on the accelerator, clearing a path just in time for the car to collide with the rocky trench lining the road.

The vehicle instantly erupted into an array of circuits and gears as it shattered against the rock, raining fiberglass onto the loose gravel. Avery's heart slammed loudly inside of her chest, her insides knotted together with dread as she followed the path of the red and yellow cars.

_Where in the world did that guy find the money to get that kind of mod?_ _Whoever he is, he can't be up to anything good_, Avery thought to herself as she struggled to catch up. It took a pretty powerful collision to send over two tons worth of machinery flying through the night like it weighed no more than a_ feather_. The driver of the yellow car needed help if he didn't want to risk getting flipped like the other.

Was it a stupid decision to help someone in the middle of a high-speed chase? _Absolutely_. Normally playing the hero yielded ugly results; however, if no one did anything, dents and vehicle damage may be the least of anyone's problems tonight. Besides, that asshole had taken out her opponent before either one of them could win the race. _There goes tonight's bet money… _Taking a deep breath, Avery revved the engine of her old grand am, gaining on the tail end of the red car.

"Here goes nothing…" the girl grumbled in an attempt at self-motivation. _I am an idiot_.

Without a second thought, she deliberately swerved into the side of the red car with as much power as the engine could muster. The screech of metal-on-metal tore through the air loudly, but at least the powerful impact managed to knock the red car off course long enough for the Camaro to speed ahead. Teeth rattling from impact, Avery continued to press force into the red vehicle, trying to veer it off course and away from the track.

Something seemed…_off_ about the red car. When Avery managed to glance over at the driver, her stomach dropped at the sight she found. From her line of vision, the front seat appeared completely vacant. Of course, the dark tinting of the windows could have simply blocked out the driver's shape at such high speeds, but something about this car definitely radiated with danger.

_You're just seeing things, Av. Calm down…focus…_

The grand am rammed the red sports car crashed into the surrounding rock walls of the trench, bringing both to a grinding halt. Avery swallowed the anxiety building up in her throat, regretting the damage to her vehicle. She should put more thought into the amount of damage the other driver would possibly inflict to her face after pulling a move like that.

Gathering her courage, Avery stepped out of the grand am. Her fingers curled on the rusty old tire iron under her seat, a small but quick defense if anything went wrong.

A very furious-looking driver emerged from the front seat, glaring her down as she eyed the long gash in the side of his car. Everything about him was smothered in red, from his clothing to his hair and attitude. He would have looked rather tacky and outlandish in that entire ensemble if his sense of style were not up to par. A mess of spiky, cherry-colored hair partially covered burning light brown eyes that seemed to practically tint red in the dim light. Her grip tightened around the tire iron, carefully watching his posture. He couldn't be much older than she was, but he still had enough muscle to pack a punch.

"'Evening," Avery greeted, giving the guy a sheepish smile. The driver only glared daggers at her in response, his hands shaking in rage.

_I'm going to die tonight._

In street racing things could quickly turn ugly over a disagreement, failed payment on a bet, or just testosterone-fueled competition, but nothing like _this._ Accidents and fancy engine-modifications were common—but upgrading your vehicle with weaponry crossed a _completely_ different line! The sport yielded easy money through bets—if you raced well, of course—and a good adrenaline rush, but it was not intended for battle!

"Tell me…." He said in a breathy voice, restraining back his anger enough to form coherent words, "What…in the _slag _were you thinking?! The damage your little stunt cost me is going to take _ages_ to repair!"

"Look, I know this is the last sport to have any rules, but last time I checked, lasers weren't on the approved car-modification list," Avery said back carefully. "I couldn't just let you shoot that guy's tires out. Besides, how in the hell did you even get a mod like that?"

The guy smirked, leaning against his car and crossing his arms together. "You like my little lights display? You seem more interested in getting a few fancy add-ons for your scrap heap than preserving the safety of my rival back there. You could've just asked me after the race, as opposed to veering me off the _track_."

"And, on that note, you still haven't answered my question: why were you attacking that guy in the Camaro?" Avery countered, frowning at the 'scrap heap' comment. "You couldn't just beat him up in an alleyway like a normal guy?"

"I'm afraid that's none of your business. Now, if you will be as kind to move your rust-bucket so I can leave, _sweetheart_? I'd love to stay and chat but I have somewhere to be," he said curtly.

_Who does he think he is, anyway? _Avery took a step closer to his vehicle, inspecting the damage. Surprisingly, aside from a few minor dents, it only sported surface marks. With a smirk, she straightened and glanced up at him.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll fix your paint job tonight if you meet me back here next week for a race," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Same time."

That seemed to catch his interest, despite the display of attitude moments ago. He arched one perfect eyebrow. "And why should I take you up on that offer?"

"I lost half my money tonight because of your high-speed laser death chase taking out my opponent. Beating someone as flashy as you would earn me enough to buy a new paint job or replace half of my engine."

"And what do I get if I win?" he asked back.

"I'll give you free surface-repair for a month."

The driver looked reluctant at first, but eventually relented, smirking and grabbing her hand in a firm handshake. "You have a deal."

* * *

Knockout had to admit-the flesh-bag girl did a half-decent job. His human hologram examined her work carefully as she mended his paint, taking out what surface dents she could on his door and running a buffer across his chassis. With time to spare, he had followed her to a shed on the opposite side of town. He needed to return to the _Nemesis_ soon, tanks low on energy from the race and extended use of his holo-form; but at least he would only have to worry about minimal self-repair tonight.

He glanced around the room; tools and paint cans lay scattered everywhere, the floors and walls stained with various color from years of use. A few books lay scattered about, things on mechanics and car-maintenance. The flesh-bag knew little of serious auto-repair, but seemed to handle herself well with the aesthetics.

"Nice chassis," the girl commented, turning off the buffer. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I'm one of a kind," he smirked, ego flaring with her comment. It was certainly an improvement from her harsh treatment of his alt.-form on the track.

The human glanced at him strangely for a moment, "I was talking about your car, Captain Obvious. Speaking of which, do you even have a name?"

Glancing over at her, the medic hesitated. The girl knew nothing of Cybertron, Autobots, or Decepticons, but he didn't want to take any chances. When she stared at him expectantly, he finally let it slip, "The name's Knockout."

She smirked. "Are you serious?"

"You don't have a racer name?" he asked, relieved when her look of suspicion deflated into an amused grin.

"Nope. I'm Avery," she commented, "Just Avery."

"That's boring, sweetheart. I think you could come up with something better," he replied, returning her grin.

"What? The Blonde Menace? Terror Tires? Names aren't my specialty."

"Well, "Just Avery" isn't going to send terror through anybody's transistors. Appearances _are_ everything, my dear."

"I'll keep that in mind." Avery smirked, wiping off the rest of his chassis. "There you go, Knockout. All set for next week's race. You like it?"

"It's decent."

Avery mustered her best fake pout, and Knockout's hologram rolled his eyes before flashing his infamous grin. "We'll see how well it holds up next week."

"If you chicken out beforehand, just let me know. I'll be happy to take your sweet ride off your hands for a few weeks. It's as good as any bet money," she replied with a smile.

Knockout frowned, wondering what in Primus' name a chicken was. He dismissed the thought to look it up later and made a show of having his hologram slide into his alt.-mode before pulling out of the shed and into the street.

"We'll have to see about that, Just Avery."

**A/N: Review please! Tell me what you think! I love criticism, good or bad! Thanks! Let me know if I should continue! **

**-KM**

**Review! Review! Review! **


	2. II: Detonation

Overdrive

**A/N: WOW! I was not expecting this story to get much attention! Thank you to the wonderful Copyright-Prime, Grievousorvenom, vampireyautja, Rat001, Nidia . Ceylon , animeloser101, EHSparkwoman , Camigirl215, Anonymous BW FG, and Guest for your reviews and feedback! Special thanks to my new friend andshecryz for critiquing me on this before I posted! You are all appreciated and are what keep me writing! :D **

**Note: I do switch the focus of the third-person perspective a few times so that Knockout and Avery each get airtime. This fic is not intended to be OC-centric only. I like writing from both. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. It belongs to Hasbro. Oh, and the idea of Eradicon Steve/ST-3V3 belongs to EnvySkort on DeviantArt. He'll show up in various places throughout the story because he's awesome.**

* * *

_I'm a street-walking cheetah with a heart full of napalm_

_I'm a runaway son of the nuclear A-bomb_

_The one who searches and destroys_

_Baby, detonate for me_

_Soul radiation in the dead of night_

_Baby, penetrate my mind_

_Look out, honey, 'cause I'm using technology_

_Ain't got time to make no apology_

_-Iggy & the Stooges, "Search and Destroy"_

_**Chapter 2: Detonation**_

"Cybertron to Knockout; _hello_? Anybody left in that empty processor of yours?"

"Huh?" Breakdown's sudden comment startled the medic out of his routine, nearly causing him to sever his patient's main energon line. The poor eradicon flinched, letting out a high-pitched whimper as the fusion tool clanked around mercilessly in his circuitry.

"Sorry, Steve," Knockout mumbled, only half-sincere as he sealed the wound shut.

"T-Thank you, Sir," the eradicon replied, sliding off of the medical berth, "Allow me to let you get back to your work-…"

Knockout gave a dismissive wave in response, running a hand over his tired faceplates as the soldier left. Another dozen eradicons awaited him in other areas of the med-bay, sporting everything from slightly fractured plating to deep gashes and internal energon-line ruptures from their last battle. Even with Breakdown at his side it was overwhelming; they had spent most of the last two cycles repairing wounded soldiers. Not to mention the hulking mass of an unconscious Decepticon leader in the next room that required a daily checkup due to the illness claiming his processor…

_Primus_, he needed a break.

"Knockout?" Breakdown said again, louder, his voice rattling around in the medic's processor.

"What is it? We've got a whole squad of eradicons and a Decepticon leader to repair. Can't it wait?"

"We've handled most of the serious wounds already. You look like you could use some high-grade," his assistant commented. "I'm sure the others could wait a few joors for you to refuel. No one wants a half-conscious doctor working on any injury, for that matter."

"Just a few more, and I'll go," Knockout replied, moving onto the next soldier.

"You've been pretty distant and distracted lately," Breakdown pointed out. "Need to talk about it?"

"Heh. You noticed?" Knockout grinned as he sealed another wound closed, "I never struck you as the touchy-feely type, BD."

"Can you blame me? Frag, normally you're showing off your latest paintjob or bragging about your newest upgrade. It's kind of weirding me out," Breakdown said, "Seriously, is something on your mind?"

"It's nothing," the medic responded. "I'm just tired, is all."

In truth, anxiety had eaten away at him for weeks over many things, primarily Megatron returning to consciousness; he had promised Starscream his aid in betraying the Decepticon leader, and had never really been confronted about it by the tyrant other than a few threats here and there. Anxiousness coupled with large amounts of duty and little recharge had left him an overworked, paranoid mass of machinery.

Breakdown's yellow optics fixed on Knockout for a few moments before he dissolved back into his work. Knockout hated to blow off his best friend, but rarely did they ever acknowledge personal troubles out in the open. No matter how flamboyant others considered the red medic, he was still a _mech_, and mechs just _didn't_ do things like that. Especially Decepticons.

He needed to get out of here for part of a cycle, or face losing it. How sad that competition with a flesh-bag was the only thing he had to look forward to this week.

* * *

"Hey! I asked for no pickles on my sandwich, and what do you give me? _Pickles_! This burger meat looks like somethin' that came out of the wrong end of my dog. Look, toots, I don't know what kinda operation you're tryin' to run here, but this just ain't gonna work—" a heavy New York-style accent cut through her daydreaming, snapping Avery back into reality.

"Sorry, Sir. We'll take care of that right away!" she interrupted, flashing the customer a big cheesy smile as she took back his tray of food, "Only the best for our customers at KO Burger, where every burger's a knockout!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the guy waved her off. "I know the drill."

_Ugh…I can't wait to get out of here_, Avery thought as she tossed out the food and went to retrieve a fresh hamburger. Despite the fresh batch of patties simmering on the grill, every single one looking like something from Mystery Meat Monday in high school. She prepared the food quickly and returned to the counter as a horde of customers poured through the doors for the late-night dinner rush.

Two hours—just two short hours and soon the sweet taste of victory would be _hers_. Despite the fact she'd challenged a potentially dangerous opponent on a whim, Avery felt confident enough in her ability to win this race. Flashy guys with pretty cars never lasted long; they showed up, won a few rounds, and then had their asses handed to them on a silver platter within a matter of weeks.

She had witnessed it dozens of times; a glamorous rookie would bet too much money or rub someone the wrong way, and would end up in a bloody, fleshy mess behind the nearest alleyway with their car either trashed or stolen. Avery had learned that very quickly after too many nights of keyed doors and slashed tires. From that point on, she showed up, stated her conditions, and collected her money at the end of the night—short and sweet, no strings attached. She wasn't a showoff, just a bit of an adrenaline addict… _Okay, more than just a little._

Avery had a bad habit of throwing herself into things without thinking of the consequences; even the fact that losing would cost her double on paint supplies for the next month would not deter her, and she could hardly afford her rent as it was. Her pride and stubbornness alone had already landed her an overload of college hours, a crappy part-time job, and an illegal hobby. What damage could one match cause?

Seeing the look on that asshole's face after she wiped the floor with him and his pretty Aston Martin would _totally_ be worth it.

With that thought in mind, she barely lasted the rest of her shift without fidgeting and checking the time every few seconds; the minutes slowly ticked away until the clock finally reached eleven PM, and finally the manager let her off the hook. Avery bolted outside, a blast of cool autumn air whipping her hair violently about her face. _This_ was certainly a night to race. She threw open the door of her Grand Am and climbed in, revving the engine.

"Just you wait, pretty boy. You're going down," she mumbled to herself, taking off toward the outskirts of town.

* * *

Human holograms could be so troublesome. They drained energon and wasted spark energy—however, if Knockout had to walk around in a virtual fleshy prison, at least he would look good doing it. He materialized it at the last second as he arrived on the circuit, a beacon of red amongst the rough group of scruffy flesh-bags looming around the area. His holo-form stepped out of his alt. mode, scanning the track for potential opponents.

"Hey! Took you long enough to show up. Having any second thoughts?" a deep femme voice called in his direction.

Sure enough, there it—she—was, the flesh-bag that had trashed, repaired, and challenged him last week. The lanky human's eyes narrowed and a smile twitched at the corners of her lips when he glanced in her direction. Everything about her matched her scrap heap of a car—quirky, worn, and outdated. Her faded jeans, torn leather jacket and Led Zeppelin shirt blended in perfectly with the dulling black paint of the 1975 Pontiac Grand Am behind her. This poor meat-sack had the audacity to believe she could actually win against him with that junk heap.

Knockout couldn't decide whether to feel amused or insulted as he surveyed the scrapped vehicle behind her. A quick Internet search provided him with the information on the engine and model. It was almost laughable—this couldn't even come close to matching Cybertronian technology. He approached her, cocking one hip to the side and crossing his arms with a smirk. "I'm surprised you actually still want to do this. This is your last chance to back out, princess."

"Not a chance, pretty boy," she replied smoothly, but not without a catch in her voice.

Knockout grinned back in response at that; he almost pitied her—it wasn't surprising he could still have an affect on organic females. "I'd love to stay out here and chat all night, but I have a race to win. You ready?"

"You know it," she said back, twirling her keys as she slid into her vehicle. "But before we start—there are two things I need to make absolutely clear. One: no lasers allowed."

"Obviously. You aren't exactly what I'd consider a threat. What about the second?"

"Try not to get _too_ offended when it's you eating my dust at the end of the night. See you at the finish line," she quipped, flashing him a slag-eating grin as she rolled up the window to her car and drove to the starting point.

"You know what they say about assumptions," the medic smirked to himself as his holo-form climbed into the driver's seat of his alt. mode. '_They make an aft out of you._' He rolled up beside her on the gravel, leveling his vision straight ahead. Her engine rumbled to life next to him, parts clanking loudly around within.

'_This will certainly end quickly_. _Best of luck, flesh-bag._'

A slender human masked by a dark hoodie stepped between the vehicles, nodding to both opponents. Wordlessly he raised one arm, waving a flashlight up into the air. This was it. With that passing signal of light, the entire night exploded into chaos.

Both cars lurched forward across the gravel, blasting into the night. Loose pebbles and dirt scattered behind them, creating clouds of dust in their wake. The Pontiac's engine rattled loudly as the human slammed down on the accelerator, gaining distance behind him. Knockout could practically feel her determined glare on his bumper.

What fun would this be if he beat her in only one move? He wanted to enjoy himself tonight, after all. The medic decided to make things interesting, slowing his pace by only a minimal amount and working his way toward the outside of the track. As predicted, the girl took the bait, using the opportunity to bolt ahead of him and into the inside lane of the road.

Knockout gained speed, trailing on the tail end of her car just to aggravate her. Sure enough, the human's eyes widened in her rear-view mirror, glaring back at him in annoyance. They continued this for a while, him following closely behind; after a few minutes, the flesh-bag finally figured out he was toying with her. Without warning, the human slammed on her breaks, colliding into the metal of his front bumper.

The sudden screech of metal-on-metal was _deafening_. Knockout cringed—the race had barely started and _already_ he had new marks. If this cheeky meat-sack wanted to play rough, he would oblige.

No longer holding back, the medic darted up beside her. He made sure to catch her attention, hologram giving her a pretty smirk before he collided into the left side of her vehicle. A slight pain exploded on his right side from contact, but Knockout forced his alt. mode harder into the metal anyway. His little opponent was obliged to fix every small scratch and smudge after tonight; he had _nothing_ to lose.

The Pontiac slammed into him with equal force, trying to veer him off the road to no avail. His strength outmatched hers at this angle, and within moments he had sent his opponent fishtailing to the left.

"Sorry, princess. No hard feelings," he chuckled to himself, bolting toward the finish line.

* * *

Careening, twisting, turning, Avery held on for dear life as her car swerved across the gravel. It felt as though someone had torn the earth from its orbit, sending it tumbling through empty space. Colors flashed across her vision, the track blurring into nothing as she spun out of control.

_Please don't let me die please don't let me die please don't let me die!_

Fingers digging into the leather, Avery jerked the wheel into the direction of the spin, slowly guiding the car back onto a straight path. Her heart pounded in overtime as she slammed on the accelerator once more, taking off after the Aston Martin. No way in _hell_ was she going down tonight—not after that charade!

Loud rattling filled her ears as the engine pushed its limits, but Avery ignored the sound. She knew she was pushing the old car, but pride prevented her from doing the rational thing and slowing down. "If _that's_ how it is," the girl hissed, "_Two_ can play that game, prissy pants."

The speedometer's red dial began to twitch, hitting sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety miles per hour, and continued to climb. In the distance the bright red taillights of her opponent came into view, getting closer by the second. He wasn't even _trying _to win, so confident that she would crash and burn. In a swift movement, the girl glided past her opponent, driving just close enough to scratch the paint. The satisfying sound of old, _real_ metal across a fancy red and silver fiberglass finish brought a wide, manic grin across her lips.

Adrenaline caught fire in her veins, blood boiling like gasoline as she shot past him. Knockout reacted immediately, reclaiming the inside lane of the circuit before she could make it too far ahead. She growled, crashing into his fender as she forced her way in front of him. The two swerved into and around one another, bashing and gouging into the other's vehicle to take first place.

Never in any of her experience did she have to work so hard to simultaneously keep the front place and safety of her own body in tact. Pitting herself against a fellow road maniac was probably not the best idea after all. Just as her strongest hit sent him veering off in circles, the dizzy, disoriented human decided to make a break for the finish line. That blessed row of cars, people and lights in the distance awaited her, signaling the end of this crazy battle. She now only remained about two hundred feet away from victory—!

When something crashed into her so hard it knocked the entire world off its axis. Impulsively, Avery gripped the wheel, turning it hard to the left and starting to serpentine in the process. _No, no, no, no, NO! _The blow to her side took away her speed and, despite the aerodynamic shape of her car, caused her to fall back from ninety to fifty miles per hour. She slammed down on the accelerator again, trying to make up for lost time.

To make matters worse, a red shape appeared in her peripheral vision, adjacent to her vehicle. Knockout drove _backwards_, not even bothering to look behind him as he zoomed past her. The egotistical bastard had the nerve to bolt across the finish line _first_ in that manner, spinning three or four times across the gravel for show before finally coming to a stop. Avery shot over the line just moments afterward, her breaks screeching loudly as her car halted. She had only missed first place by about five seconds!

The human took a few moments to calm down, breathing heavily. Her hands still clung to the wheel, tightening in rage and alarm when she caught sight of the smoke billowing out of her hood. _Oh no! _Avery practically kicked open the door to the driver's side, jumping out of the car and quickly taking inventory of the damage. Numerous dents and scratches littered the frame of the car, though it thankfully retained its basic shape; however, the smoke was concerning.

She popped the hood immediately, checking for damage. A black buff of toxins practically swallowed her whole. She flew back, coughing and gasping for air. When the smoke cleared, she could see the more serious internal damage to the engine. _Shit_. This would take a while to repair…

"Well, that certainly doesn't look good. What a shame," a deep voice purred behind her. Avery stiffened immediately, whirling around to face a very smug Knockout. Her fists curled in anger, but for the moment she could only glare back at him. "What do you want?"

"Have you forgotten _already_? You lost, fair and square, and now you have to hold up your end of our little bargain~"

"It'll have to wait. Thanks to _you_, I'm going to have to call out a tow-truck. There is no way I can drive back with my engine in this condition without becoming a living shiskabob. It's leaking from a main fuel line," she explained begrudingly.

"Add in a polish and detail-work on my rims tonight, and I'll be your ride," he smirked, placing his hands on his hips.

"No _thanks_." Before she could turn away, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist. _Shit._

"I never said that was a request, now did I?" The red tint to his irises seemed oddly bright tonight—it disconcerted the girl.

"Look, I'll get to you first thing tomorrow evening. I have school and a job, you know," she ground out carefully through her teeth.

"You challenged _me_. And you lost. I don't see a logical reason to leave until my chassis is positively _glowing_. Careful who you mess with, _sweetheart_," he said dangerously, yanking her toward him. "You play with fire, you get _burned_."

"All right, all right," Avery said quickly, putting her hands up defensively, "But you are not going to make this a habit. You see me on _my_ time after this, understood?"

Knockout chuckled, releasing her wrist. "You seem to have me mistaken. I'm not coming to you because you're good. I'm coming to you because you're _free_."

Despite the way his tone set her nerves on edge, Avery's blood boiled with anger and humiliation. He had said this clearly enough for _everyone_ within a ten foot radius to hear, and those who eavesdropped clearly took away a different meaning from the comment about her being 'free.' A few other racers snickered, and one largely muscled brute wolf-whistled in their direction. It didn't help that her cheeks had begun to reflect the same shade of red as Knockout's fancy car.

"Not in THAT way," she exclaimed loudly for emphasis at the others, taking a step back to create space between them for good measure.

"Come again?" Knockout questioned. When the girl shook her head and glared out into the distance away from the catcalls made by other humans, he caught on quickly. How _disgusting_, that these pathetic flesh-bags actually thought he would get involved with such a lowly creature! If only they knew.

The medic only smirked and patted the human on the cheek with mock-affection. "Not to worry, princess. You're not really my type."

"Yeah; you seemed like the type to go more for pork swords anyway," she replied, flashing him a slick, smarmy smile right back.

'_Pork swords?_' As always, the wonderful World Wide Web had provided him with everything he wished to never know about the human race. So, she pegged him as what the humans referred to as 'gay'. Not entirely false, not entirely true: Knockout had no preference for either mechs or femmes like most Cybertronians, but even then, gender was a relative term based upon frame model only. It said nothing about their actual reproductive capabilities or forms of interfacing. Still, given the context, the Decepticon officer did not appreciate being referred to as a frivolous, feminine weakling. He smirked darkly, glaring right back at her. "Do I sense a bit of jealousy? At least I have the capabilities to attract _both_. You, my dear, have no taste."

Light brown, almost gold eyes hardened, glaring daggers right through him with the petty comment. Primus, this organic was so childish. Her clenched hands trembled, and in a swift movement a bony fist came flying directly toward his holo-form's face. Knockout sidestepped the punch with ease, catching her fist with an open palm. "Really, a fist-fight? I honestly expected you to have more dignity than that. There's no point in being a sore loser~"

The human growled again, breathing hard as she fought to calm down. A quick bio-scan indicated high blood pressure and adrenaline levels; his new flesh-bag had quite the temper. How troublesome. Oh well, at least she was _somewhat_ compliant.

"…let's just go," she said finally, voice coarse.

Knockout opened the door for her to his alt. mode, grinning in her direction. "Ladies first."

* * *

**A/N: Please give me your feedback; I appreciate every comment, no matter how small or long, positive, or negative. Even if you just click the review button to shout, "PREPARE FOR SURGERY!" ;) Chapter 3 is mostly written and coming soon! **

**-KM**

**Review! Review! Review!**


	3. III: Compensation

Overdrive

**A/N: Thank you so much to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed this story! Your support keeps me writing! :D**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. Avery is the only thing I own :I**

_I need an easy friend_

_I do, with an ear to lend_

_I do think you fit the shoe_

_I do, but you have a clue_

_I'll take advantage while_

_You hang me out to dry_

_But I can't see you every night free_

_-Nirvana, "About a Girl"_

_**Chapter 3: Compensation**_

"Ah, ah, ah. _No_ fingerprints."

The smugness in his voice drove the young racer further up the wall as she buffed and polished the perfect, gleaming chassis of the Aston Martin. Knockout had the nerve to monitor her every move with obvious disdain, as if she would damage his precious car by _breathing_ on it. He had provided her with a list of requirements for surface-repair after she lost: no fingerprints, no perspiration near the paint job, and no uncovered hands.

"You got it…"

His ridiculous rules had her slaving over small smudges in her aunt's obnoxious Barbie-pink gardening gloves, fighting for her footing against three industrial fans threatening to blast them both away. It was absolute madness! Ten days had passed since the race, and already he had stopped by four times for minor detailing jobs on shallow scratches and marks—things a simple car wash could take care of!

He was using her and she knew it, but pride prevented her from beating him into next week with her tire iron. She had lost the race, but certainly not this game forming between them—a game that, with enough effort, she would _win_. Seeing her crack would only provide the flashy bastard with a sense of satisfaction. He would stop taking her seriously, and Avery most certainly planned on another re-match in their near future. For now, she would finish her work, return his banter, and keep small talk to a minimum.

In this charade, appearances mattered most of all.

"What do you meat-bags usually say…? Oh yeah! Put a little elbow grease into it. I want to see it _shine_. You didn't promise me a mediocre job, _sweetheart_." He grinned, catching her small twitch of anger.

Ignoring his odd use of the word 'meat-bag', Avery huffed and continued to buff harder into the paint. The delicate metal of the hood dented inward slightly with pressure and a slimy smirk twisted across her lips at Knockout's sharp intake of breath. She lightened up on the tool and the metal returned to normal; he took a threatening step toward her, hands clenched into trembling fists.

_That shut you up, pretty boy. Don't test me_.

"Chill out, dude. I'm doing the best I can," Avery said through her teeth, attempting to come across as aloof.

"What's with the attitude? You're lucky enough I let a—someone like _you_ near my chassis at all."

"That's _it_," she said lowly, slamming her tool down onto the utility table next to her, "Who do you think you are?" _So much for being aloof…_

"Knockout: medical expert, automobile enthusiast, and street-racing _extraordinaire_," he practically purred, smirking condescendingly at her.

"That's not what I—! Oh, and _now_ you're a medical expert too?" she quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms together. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Why? I'm not just all charm and good looks. Primus. That's so _shallow_."

"So, you're a flamboyant street racer that collects fancy European cars and studies medicine in his spare time. What else do you do? Skydiving? Mural painting? Delivering food to the needy? Anything normal, or is that too boring for you?"

"Ever the skeptic, are we?"

"You can't possibly expect me to believe you're a street-racing doctor."

After a moment of silence, Knockout's eyes flashed. He stepped toward her, grabbed her hand and yanked off the glove. He smirked, holding it close to his face as he gestured to each individual bone. "Distal phalanx, middle phalanx, proximal phalanx," he read, gliding his soft fingertips over her calloused ones, "All held together by two interphalangeal joints and one metacarpophalangeal joint; the metacarpal bones are located here, and then the carpal bones below those function to aid the hand in..."

_So he wasn't bluffing after all. Damn._

For a few seconds Avery could only stare, dumbstruck as he read off the bones in each part of her hand. For someone as vain as Knockout, medical knowledge certainly was a quirky area of interest. She hated to admit it, but her level of intrigue for him had just doubled. When she finally had the nerve to meet his gaze, his grin only widened at her expression. Heat flushed to her face at that look, but pride won over the better of her, and she yanked her hand out of his grasp.

The racer stepped backwards, creating a decent amount of space between them. "I was wrong about you. Your head _is_ huge enough to store all of that information after all."

"If you're trying to insult me, it's not working very well," Knockout smirked.

Avery ran a tired hand over her face and focused on the wall—anywhere except him—and suddenly noticed the time. The clock read 4:55—her shift started in five, and she was going to be late! _Again_. She cursed, fumbling around for her keys and bolting for her grand am, throwing open the door and shoving the keys in the ignition. The engine flared to life, sputtered, and then died in less than 30 seconds. Her heart sank into her stomach just as a large black puff of smoke seeped out from under the hood. The scent of burnt motor oil and rusting iron filled the air.

"What's with the rush, Blondie?" Knockout asked as a string of very colorful words flew out of the grand am.

"I got a shift in five minutes and my engine's dead," Avery growled as she stepped out of the now-smoking vehicle.

"I told you that clunker wouldn't get you very far," he snickered. "Well at least now you can upgrade that pile of scrap into something better~"

"What planet are you from? It doesn't work that way around here. You can't buy a brand new European sports car after only a few shifts at KO burger. It took me a few years to save up for the grand am—which I'd appreciate you stop calling a clunker. It's got a decent make."

"Your point being?"

"If you want me to keep working on your car, I need supplies. Supplies cost money. No shift, no job, no money, no supplies," Avery said hurriedly. "I need you to give me a ride."

"_No_ way," Knockout stated, putting his hands up in the air, "No can do. I'm not some little femme's personal chauffeur."

"_Please_," she begged, "It's just one time. I'll fix it when I get back. Right now I don't have the time to jump-start the engine and do a maintenance check! That'll take _hours_."

"I've got places I need to be just as much as you do—"

"There's nobody else I can call, and I spent a long time on your car. Pleeeease? Pretty please with diesel on top? My ass is so fired if I miss another-"

"_All right, all right_. Just once," he said sharply, cutting her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. _'Primus, why are flesh-bags so annoyingly pushy…?'_

"Thank you, thank you, _thank_ you!" In a rush, Avery forcibly pulled him into a hug. Knockout stiffened, hands flaring out in the open air and away from her as if she had poisoned him. The blonde was too relieved to care; Pretty Boy could deal with a little human contact—she had just spent a good two hours shining his car, after all.

"So, where are we going, exactly?" Knockout asked, sighing in relief when she released him.

"KO Burger; it's on the other side of town, but it's the only fast food joint in Jasper. You can't miss it," she explained, yanking off the gardening gloves and grabbing her work uniform from the side utility table.

"A place after my own name; how…coincidental," he said, sliding into the driver's seat of the Aston Martin with ease. She always wondered how he made every movement and gesture look so fluid, so perfect; he seeped charisma and radiated confidence, and she envied him for it. He probably had countless women—and maybe a few men—falling over themselves at his feet to gain even an ounce of his attention.

"I always thought you named yourself after the local burger joint," she commented as she scrambled into the passenger's side, shoving those kinds of thoughts out of her head.

"Nope. I'm not exactly from around here," he replied, pulling out of the shed and onto the pavement. "If you couldn't already tell."

"Where are you from?" Avery asked. As much as she hated to admit it, she really _was_ curious.

The car ride remained silent for a few moments before he glanced over at her, flashing his trademark smirk. "Just a tip, princess: never give away too many secrets. Keeps your audience interested."

Despite the quip, something about the way he looked at her sent chills down her spine. Avery cursed herself inwardly for reacting. She'd had her share of experience with pretty boys, and it never ended well. This guy was dangerous, obviously hiding something behind the cocky facade; to make things worse, she didn't even know his _name_. That alone had already spelled out 'trouble' to her from the start. And, judging from the way he'd flinched when she hugged him, he was _far_ from interested.

_Besides, with that wardrobe and attitude, he's probably gay…_

"Let me guess; somewhere big. New York? San Francisco, maybe?"

"You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?" he sighed, "Figures. Femmes… and no, it's none of those places. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Man, wherever it is, I bet it's great," Avery continued, staring off into space with a grin. "I've never been outside of Jasper, really. Las Vegas one time, but it's mainly just a bunch of people drunk off their asses looking for a place to empty their wallet-"

Knockout cut her off. "Why is it that femmes feel the need to spill their entire life story in casual conversation?"

"Girls like to talk. Besides, what's up with the way _you_ talk? You use the weirdest words for things," she commented. "Aft, femmes, processor, meat-bags… You're a meat-bag too, you know."

The car was silent for another passing minute. "Like I told you on the first day we met, I'm one of a kind," he said vaguely.

"That's for sure," she snorted, glancing back at him.

He pulled to an abrupt halt by the burger joint, glancing over at her with mild annoyance. "Here we are. Now hurry up, I have somewhere I need to be."

Avery rolled her eyes, stepping out of the car. "Thanks for the ride, pretty boy."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Just remember, next time—"

Before she could finish her sentence, the door had slammed closed in her face. The blonde could only stare as the Aston Martin revved its engine, peeling out of the parking lot in a few split seconds. She stood there for a moment in disbelief, before rolling her eyes and heading toward the front entrance.

"What a jackass," she huffed under her breath, scrolling through a few text messages before walking into the building.

When she slid her phone back into her pocket, she noticed one of the employees—a high school kid named Jack or John or something of that nature—the kid with the fancy new moped—staring suspiciously in her direction.

**A/N: Crappy ending, uneventful chapter… However, the next chapter will be action packed! Please leave a review, positive or negative critique please! **

**-KM**

**Review! Review! Review!**


	4. IV: Obliteration

Overdrive

**A/N: Here we are, chapter 4 is up! Sorry for the wait! Classes got really crazy at the end of last semester.**

**Thank you very much to sckid, Mistress Megatron, Gigi Jinx, , Anonymous BW FG, janit3443, vixon, Zaraen, Silver-Streaked Wings, anonomon, vampireyautja, Decepitconloser101, andshecryz, EHSparkwoman, and Camigirl215 for all your kind and wonderful reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, but I do own the flesh-bag Avery :)**

* * *

_Don't it make you feel bad?_

_When you're trying to find your way home_

_You don't know which way to go?_

_Crying won't help you_

_Praying won't do you no good_

_When the levee breaks, mama, you got to move_

_-Led Zeppelin, "When the Levee Breaks"_

_**Chapter 4: Obliteration**_

"_**Knockout, you **_**fool**_**; report. What is your position? If you do not return to the **_**Nemesis **_**within the hour immediately we will be departing without you**_."

The Aston Martin vented a stiff cycle as the irritant voice of the Decepticon leader cut through his communications link. He was going to be late, _again_, and possibly stranded, no thanks to that Primus-forsaken skin-job! Next time the brat needed a ride he'd tell her to can it and call a taxi. No mediocre wax-job was worth enduring weeks of wandering around aimlessly without energon and a decent place to recharge. Not to mention, being left in such close range to the Autobots.

"_This is Knockout, reporting: I'll be returning shortly, my liege_."

A dreadfully tense silence met him at the other end of the intercom link, and the sports car waited apprehensively for the warlord's response. He could practically feel the tyrant's frustrated glare burning silent holes into him through the connection. Static buzzed in his audios.

"_**If I discover that you were out on one of your little racing excursions again, your already-questionable position as a Decepticon medic shall be the **_**least**_** of your worries. **_**Am I clear?**"

Unconsciously, the medic increased his speed.

"_Crystal, Lord Megatron_."

An impatient grunt answered him back before the tyrant spoke again.

"_**For your sake, **_**Knockout**_**, I certainly hope so**_."

With that, the line cut short. Knockout put himself into overdrive, kicking his speed up to a number well over the limit designated by organic law. He winced at the sound his tires made as the rubber peeled out and over the harsh gravel of the Nevada back roads. His undercarriage rattled uncomfortably as he made his way over terrain ill suited for travel for a model like himself. Bolts and screws within his alt-mode shook and clanked around in protest at the harsh treatment.

Primus, this planet was going to eventually tear him apart. That was, if Megatron did not get to him first…

_Hmph. Leave it once more to that irritating flesh-bag to turn a perfectly good afternoon of pampering into something awful._

The sound of a roaring engine and the harsh grating slide of tires over gravel cut the medic off mid-thought with a start. He angled his mirrors back, catching sight of an all-too-familiar blue motorcycle gaining in speed behind him. Clouds of dust and dirt rose into the air as she closed in on his fender. Her motors revved dangerously.

_Scrap._

"Looks like I've got company…" Knockout muttered under his breath. He did _not_ have the time or the patience for a little game of cat and mouse, nor a high-speed death chase—no matter how much he would have enjoyed either, on a regular day.

He must have been too caught up in his little com-link chat with Megatron to notice he was being followed. His scanner never once went off in alarm. That was odd—

_Primus. _

Now he remembered. The slagging flesh-bag had prodded around under his hood and inside his circuitry to clean the dust out of his engine and check for minor problems. She must have accidentally disabled it!

Without thinking twice, the Decepticon activated his lasers and fired back blindly at the two-wheeler in rapid succession. His primary objective was to get back to the ship, as much as he'd love to end up scrapping the irritating femme. Low on energon and recharge, he was in no condition to fight Arcee. He veered quickly to the right as the road began to curve, the terrain sloping upwards dramatically around the steep incline.

If anything, this just seemed to encourage his follower.

As the road sloped, the Autobot's stealthy, small frame provided her with the clear advantage over the Aston Martin. She began to serpentine, rapidly dodging the laser fire and catching up to Knockout quickly.

Rapidly dimming rays of sunlight played off of the femme's armor as she transformed in mid-air. Her delicate frame seemed to freeze in mid-leap as she struck out at the Decepticon, her forearm blades activating immediately with a sharp hiss and click. In an instant, she landed on the front of his vehicle mode, sharp pedes scraping shallow marks into the surface of his paint.

"My _finish_! Get off, you Autobot _glitch_!"

"Not a chance-!"

Knockout yelped and swerved, struggling to throw her off. He did not have the time to transform and pound her into scrap metal! Much to his horror, Arcee only clung harder, kneeling and digging her digits into the seams of his hood to hang on with one servo while she slashed a deep gash in the top of his vehicle mode. She reached back, aiming a quick punch to his windshield to try and break open the glass.

Before she could deliver the hit, however, he took advantage of the opportunity to transform and finally throw her off of him. Nevertheless, this did not deter her in the slightest. Before he could shift back into his vehicle mode, she lunged and leapt at him again like a rabid scraplet, tackling him down into the gravel and smashing her fist into his faceplates. Tiny servos wound their way around the disoriented mech's wrists, the two-wheeler's small weight pinning him down.

Primus, the glitch could move fast. The medic barely had time for his optics to focus before the harsh blue light of a blaster canon was leveled and aimed directly in his face. His processor reeled as she began growling sharply in his audios.

"What were you doing in the vicinity of human civilians? I saw a girl climb out of your chassis and walk into the restaurant. Of all 'cons, you were among the _last_ I'd expect to get friendly with the humans. _Talk_," Arcee demanded.

As the motorcycle-former raised her blaster for a better angle, Knockout used the opportunity to flip them, rolling to his pedes and delivering a sharp kick to her abdominal plating. The Autobot grunted, and he dove down, trapping her form between his knees. She recovered quickly, however, and began firing in close-range at the Decepticon.

Optics widening, Knockout quickly batted her blaster arm away, the lasers burning painful holes into his plating. He growled as one of his forearms rapidly shifted into his surgical buzz saw, sweeping it low and aiming it directly at the femme's neck cables. He jammed it against the delicate metal, smirking as blue energon welled to the surface.

"_Answer me_, Decepti-scum," she hissed.

"Can't a medic get a little R and R? I was out taking a _drive_, if you _must _know, before I was so _rudely _interrupted," the medic replied smoothly, though not without a sneer of annoyance. "Now, I'd _love_ to stick around and play, but I have a flight to catch."

Before the Autobot could spit out another comment at him, he slashed through her abdominal plating; it was a shallow cut, only meant to disable long enough so he could get away. The two-wheeler grunted in pain, jerking her helm to the side and grinding her dental plating together as he scrambled to his pedes. Knockout broke into a sprint before his plating shifted, assuming his vehicle mode as he sped off again, though this time in the opposite direction.

He detected the sound of laser-fire behind him and the Autobot hissing into her intercom, "_Ratchet, send a ground bride for Bulkhead and Bumblebee. I need backup_."

_Scrap, scrap, SCRAP—_

* * *

All in all, it had been a pretty slow evening. Barely half an hour had already passed since Knockout had dropped her off, and already Avery found herself nodding off into the cash register.

KO Burger was virtually empty, rows upon rows of perfectly polished plastic tables glowing dimly in the evening light. For once, everything was uncharacteristically in order—the rows of colorful pastel chairs aligned, all condiments neatly organized—even the straw dispensers were nice and tidy! Avery was tempted to prance over there herself and push the dispenser enthusiastically until she made a huge mess of straws to clean up. At least then, she would be doing _something_.

Taking out her phone, she checked the time again. 5:31PM, Monday. _Ugh._

A harsh clearing of a throat snapped her out of her daze. She caught the manager glaring in her direction at the sight of her cell phone, tapping his foot impatiently and harrumphing with disapproval as though she'd just trashed the lobby. She immediately straightened up, slipping the cell phone back into her pocket before her boss could swipe it. With one final glare he walked away, and she exhaled loudly in boredom.

"Having fun?" a voice called out from behind her.

Avery twisted around, surprised to find the motorcycle kid glancing in her direction again. She offered a sheepish wave. He'd been giving her weird looks and hurried glances since she first walked in. The racer would've suspected it as shyness or curiosity, except for the fact he had been gawking at her this whole time like she'd just grown a second head and extra limbs to match. There was something panicky about his movements, like he had something he needed to say but couldn't find the right words to phrase it.

"As much fun as one can have manning the register and avoiding the boss's stink eye," she replied, turning to face him. "Jake, right?"

"Jack," he filled in.

"Right!" _Of course his name is Jack. I'm such an ass…_ She smiled awkwardly at her mistake and continued, "Uh…what's up?"

"Not much," Jack shrugged. "Alison…" he tagged on at the end, testing to remember her name.

"Avery," she said, smiling at him in sympathy.

"Right. Sorry…"

Another moment of awkward silence passed before he finally said, "Look, I know this is going to sound creepy, but there's something you need to know. That guy you got out of the car with…you probably want to stay away from him. I'm not sure if you're friends or what, but…"

Avery blinked, her eyebrows rising high into her hairline at the mention of Pretty Boy. "You know Knockout?"

He opened his lips to speak, but the loud sound of roaring motors and tires peeling over concrete cut him off. Both employees swiveled around in time to see a red Aston Martin dart into the parking lot, tailed by a blue motorcycle, yellow Camaro, and green SUV. The screeching of metal followed the growl of engines and added to the cacophony as the green vehicle violently rammed into a nearby streetlight. The impact knocked the entire structure down, the metal shrieking loudly as it severed from the concrete and toppled down on top of the restaurant.

"What in the name of Sam Hill is going on?!" the manager exclaimed, his eyes bugging out as wide as saucers when he saw the ruckus outside. Within mere seconds, they all heard parts of the restaurant's structure caving in as the building struggled to support the weight of the lamppost. Cracks began to creep into the overhead tiles of the ceiling. The supervisor wasted no time in yelling, "EVERYBODY OUT NOW!"

Jack and Avery immediately scrambled for the doors with every other employee, nearly tripping over each other in the process. Everyone evacuated quickly, rushing outside to survey the damage and—of course—take pictures of the entire scene. From how it looked on the outside, the building managed to withstand the weight of the streetlight. However, this ensured no future stability. The manger was about to phone for help when he caught a closer glimpse of the cars speeding around maniacally in the parking lot. His jaw dropped open wide.

"WHAT THE-…!"

Avery followed his gaze, and much to her horror, the vehicles sported _no drivers_. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision to see if it her eyes had made a mistake, but sure enough, even with all the rising debris and chaos, the drivers' seats remained _vacant_.

"DUDE, YOUR MOTORCYCLE'S ALIVE!" someone shrieked at Jack. The teen's stoic expression dropped into one of absolute horror at the remark, though it seemed he was more terrified of the other's _discovery_ as opposed to the actual fact his vehicle had grown a mind of its own.

The racer whipped her head back around toward the chaos, unable to tear her eyes away.

She did recognize one car in particular—Knockout's cherry red Aston Martin. Despite sporting a lot of fresh wear and tear in the paint job—how in god's name he managed to screw up his finish so quickly in the span of half an hour, she would _never_ know—the flashy silver designs along the door's sides were unmistakable. It didn't take long to figure out whom the other three vehicles were chasing.

"KNOCKOUT!" she shouted, pushing through the crowd and waving her arms dramatically.

Despite the fact no one seemed to be inside the cars, Avery had to give it a try. He could have been bound and gagged in the back seat or trunk of a self-programmed high-tech military spy vehicle in the middle of a high-speed death chase for all she knew. _I really_ _hope that's the case, for his sake! _

Her shouting seemed to grab the car's—whatever it was—attention, and it suddenly served and sped in her direction. Avery felt her blood turn to ice, immediately regretting her decision to call out as something about the vehicle seemed to change, to _shift_. The doors and outer plating broke away, the body of the car shattering into a series of plates before it began to change form.

_Is Knockout's car growing…ARMS?! _

Avery gawked and froze in fear at the sight. Suddenly, being flatted and turned into road kill by the Aston Martin was the _least _of her worries.

"Wait, what are you-? NO—!" Jack broke into a sprint and dove to knock her out of the sports car's path, but it was too already late.

The Aston Martin separated and rearranged itself in a matter of seconds, the large red body of a robot emerging and heading straight for her. The racer shrieked, feeling hot metallic fingers close around her form none-too-gently and squeeze, ripping her from the ground and lifting her high up into the air before the sounds of shifting gears filled her ears once more. Within seconds, she was flying; the next, she was seated and strapped in tightly to the driver's seat of Knockout's car.

She barely had time to scream as thick nylon straps suddenly encased her body, crushing the air out of her lungs and yanking her back tightly against the dark leather interior of the car. No amount of wriggling would free her from their confines. Avery's breath came out in shaky gasps, palms clammy and cold.

Panicked brown eyes darted about the car, finding no sign of Knockout. Bile churned in her stomach, adrenaline pumping wildly through her veins in time with her pulse. Her heart pounded loudly in her brain just as the radio cut to static and a familiar voice filtered through.

"Long time no see, _princess_. Hang on tight. We're going to go for a little _ride_."

* * *

**A/N: Please leave me a review, positive or negative! I do love to hear your feedback! Chapter 5 is coming soon, and I hope you enjoyed!**

**-KM**

**Review! Review! Review!**


	5. V: Sugar, You're Going Down

Overdrive

**A/N: Hello again! :) Once again, thank you to shadow-dog18, Dragonstormgirl, Aspenwolf, sckid, Adria20, kellyviolinthebest, Nyghtflower-Pack, thelostzelda, Mistress Megatron, Anonymous BW FG, and vampireyautja for reviewing! :D**

**I'm so glad to hear that you guys find Knockout to be in character for this; that's the biggest challenge out of any in writing a story like this. I promise to keep his personality intact, even way into the future. No amount of feelings are going to change this snarky medic into a fluffy pile of goo! Nor will they melt my OC into one either. Av is too much of a hard-headed dork. (Grins)**

**Disclaimer: Avery is spawned into existence by me; Transformers belongs to Hasbro~!**

* * *

_Mama don't cry, I just wanna stay high_

_(I) Like playing with danger and fear_

_Everybody's walking, but nobody's talking_

_It looks a lot better from here_

_All my life I've been over the top_

_I don't know what I'm doing_

_All I know is I don't wanna stop!_

_-Ozzy Osbourne, "I Don't Wanna Stop"_

_**Chapter 5: Sugar, You're Going Down**_

It talked. It…it really _talked_. Knockout's car was _speaking _to her, in _his_ voice, as though they were having a perfectly normal chat over a burger and sodas!

This one little window in time took everything logical and familiar in the human's tiny, comfortable world and completely chunked it out the window like last night's leftovers. At this point, Avery had no idea whether to burst into a fit of crazy laughter, hysterical tears, or violent shrieking. For right now, all she could do was _stare_. This had to be some trick; it _had _to be! Someone had framed and kidnapped Knockout, and was using him as bait!

"Well, for someone usually so annoying and chatty, you're awfully _quiet._"

The voice that filtered through the radio snapped the human out of her daze. Instead of cowering in fear or asking where this… _contraption _was taking her, she immediately seethed, grinding her teeth together in rage and growling, "What have you done with Knockout, you bastard?!"

Static cracked over the radio for a moment, and after a long pause the voice seemed to crack an amused laugh. She could hear the smirk in its tone as it replied, "…excuse me?"

"I don't know if this is some sick joke or what, but whatever business you have with my friend I'm _sure _can be worked out without kidnapping him or anyone else he knows in some fancy military-issued car-to-robot pile of junk metal!"

This time, laughter really did meet her ears. "You think _I'm _the one who's been kidnapped? Primus, human, you're slow." Another pause, followed by an angry, scandalized gasp. "…I'm not made of _junk_ metal!"

"Artificial intelligence, then? Whatever! Obviously you're programmed with enough sentience to tell me where-"

"_Enough_!"

A sudden set of wires shot out from behind the seat, winding and curling their way around the human like aggressive, venomous snakes. No matter how much Avery thrashed or wriggled, the cords continued to tighten around her and constrict the air from her lungs little by little. One in particular forced its way into the girl's mouth, silencing her in mid-sentence. As she tried to spit it out and shout at the blasted monster-vehicle to let her go, the cable only forced its way further down her throat. She gagged.

_I dare you to trigger my gag reflex. I'm going to puke all over your perfect interior!_

"Listen, you filth-infested _worm_, I'm only going to say this once, and you're going to _listen_."

Panic shot through her like lightning. When she twisted and jerked harder to free herself, the wiring around her pulsed with a sudden energy, zapping a low-voltage current through her veins. Black spots dotted her vision, and her blood boiled from within at the dangerous scorching heat the energy generated. The skin nearest the charged cables turned a faint shade of pink in warning. Avery seethed in pain, but immediately stilled, beginning to shake.

"Continue trying my patience and I'll squeeze the air right out of you until your pathetic lungs rot and _burst! _Or perhaps I'll simply fry you from the inside out and study the effects later…" the voice mused, with a sadistic lilt to it; to the human's horror, it almost sounded cheerful about the thought of dissecting her.

"So," it purred, "What will it be? Cooperation? Or perhaps… _asphyxiation?_"

She could only nod her head shakily in reply.

"Good~ Now you're getting it, flesh-bag."

_Why does it keep calling me that? Dang, the government sure engineered one smart-ass AI interface when they built this thing! Unless…_

Within moments, the cable silencing her withdrew, causing her to cough and sputter as she began greedily seizing large amounts of air into her starving lungs. Some of the wires around her middle alleviated pressure off of her crushed internal organs. She wiggled her shoulders experimentally, but their grip remained strong. Avery sighed.

"As much as I'd love to chat, I'll keep this brief. A few weeks ago you chose to chase down and wreck the _wrong _sports car. It would seem luck isn't really in your favor~. You see, skin-job, I'm more than just an engine and four wheels inside a good-looking chassis. I'm not simply some machine, however. Perhaps you're familiar with the term, 'extraterrestrial'? Unfortunately for you, I'm something _far _more powerful than a mere sack of _flesh_…"

_Extraterrestrial-…is it talking about aliens?! No, no—that can't be right. It is a machine; someone had to build this thing…_

Dread coiled tightly inside of the young racer, much like a spring. Her nerves were taut with tension as she grunted daringly, "Why should I believe anything you say?"

The medic took that opportunity to materialize his human hologram. He watched Blondie's eyes change from resentful slits to wide saucers in less than a split second at the sight. Countless thoughts and emotions flickered across her expression, something he could only read as a mix of bewilderment and disgust, intermingled with an undertone of outright fear—fear of the unknown.

"Have you any further skepticism about my form, I can simply change into my normal bipedal mode again and give you a demonstration of what I really can do."

As he said this, Knockout shifted his doors and other parts of his undercarriage in mid-drive, the plates fanning out and exposing the human to the threat of being tossed onto the concrete beneath them. "NO! I mean—no. I get it. You're not some mindless high-tech military contraption. I believe you!" the human exclaimed. She thrashed to get away on instinct, but a quick look from the Decepticon's hologram caused her to silence herself immediately. Knockout's doors clicked back into place with a soft hiss, securing her once again within the confines of his alt.-mode.

His hologram smirked at her nastily, patting her on the cheek with mock-affection.

"Though, not to worry, I didn't _entirely _lie to you in the few short weeks we were…acquainted. My designation is still Knockout, and I am, in fact, a _doctor_ of sorts…~ More specifically, a chief medical officer for the Decepticon army."

"Decepticon Army? What, is that the name for your intergalactic boy band or something?" The human arched an eyebrow.

Knockout's hologram narrowed his eyes. He much preferred the skin-job gagged and silenced. _Ignorant little glitch… _His smirk remained in place, however, spreading into a grin as he continued, "You seem to misunderstand, little femme. The Cybertronian race has been fighting a war for countless millennia. We've been warring with each other for longer than your pathetic organic planet has been in _existence_."

The girl blinked a few times, struggling to take in all of this information. Her gaze flicked over to the window for a moment, watching the desert speed past as he drove before returning to glare burning holes into his holo-form. Despite her attempt at calm demeanor, the CMO could clearly hear her pulse pounding a mile a minute as the fleshy organ in her chest thundered blood through her veins. No matter how hard the skin-job tried to cover it up, her very biology betrayed her fear. No matter what she said or did, the Decepticon still possessed the upper hand.

"Then what are you doing here on Earth, anyways? Why the disguise and why the street racing? It just doesn't add up! You're a medic. Shouldn't you be repairing soldiers?"

"Fixing wounds isn't all I'm good for," Knockout replied, holo-form's eyes flashing with sadistic delight. He grabbed the girl's jaw, jerking her head toward him with a quick movement as he purred, "You see, _princess_, in every war there are at least two sides, the so-called 'good guys' and 'bad guys'. The 'goodies' are a group of self-righteous slaggers known as the Autobots. They fight for the freedom of all sentient beings and the preservation of other planets, while _my _side strives to revive our ravaged, war-torn planet and progress toward the preservation of_ our _race. This ball of filth just so happens to harbor precious metals and energon deposits we could make use of. The Decepticons are highly trained soldiers of various skills and abilities, but each and every one of us is no fool when it comes to combat…"

Knockout's comm link buzzed with activity, messages trying to get through as he spoke. The flesh-bag remained silent, but her glare never faltered in the slightest as the sounds of roaring engines approaching from behind filled his audios. "Well, whatever your goals may be, it looks like your Autobot friends are here to put a stop to it…"

However, her counter fell short as soon as green light exploded ahead of them, the air itself splitting into a bright, swirling vortex. Knockout sped ahead, leaving the Autobots behind him in the dust just as he shot through the ground bridge. Within moments, they were bathed in darkness and the dim purple glow of the _Nemesis_.

"And as much as it _pains_ me to burst your bubble, I've already arranged for a ground bridge, or portal, back to the warship~ Welcome to my humble abode, skin-job. You should know that you've fallen straight into the servos of the most sadistic medical officer in the entire Decepticon _faction_."

And then, much to the Aston Martin's discontentment, the human began to scream.

* * *

**A/N: Well, Avery's on board the **_**Nemesis**_**; Knockout took her in a spur of the moment as a last-ditch effort to save his own aft against the Autobots. However, what will happen when Megatron finds out about his CMO's new little guest? Human hostages certainly weren't part of the plan! Please review and tell me if I should continue! Your feedback is always appreciated! Pretty please?**

**-KM**

**Review! Review! Review!**


	6. VI: Monsters

Overdrive

**A/N: Chapter 6 already! Wow. This is the longest I've made a story in years! Thank you to Mistress Megatron, zrexheartz, vampireyautja, Dragonstormgirl, Duskmoon15, shadow-dog18, sckid, EthanPrime21, Guest, DemonMamoru, and StormRaven33 for reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro.**

**WARNING: There is a short, minor scene of amateur surgery. It's not too graphic, and isn't gory at all, but I feel I should warn you anyway. Oh, and language. And Knock Out vs. Avery bitch fighting :)**

* * *

_I feel I've come to realize_

_How fast life can be comprised_

_Knowing endless consequences_

_I feel so useless in this_

_I can't believe_

_Part of me won't agree _

'_Cause I don't know if it's for sure_

_-Sum 41, "The Hell Song"_

_**Chapter 6: Monsters**_

The flesh-bag's sudden, piercing shriek threatened to shatter Knock Out's audios. Wires shot out from the interior of the Aston Martin once more, choking the girl into silence and squeezing the air out of her lungs. With the captive secure inside him, the medic transformed into his normal, bipedal mode. The human thrashed and wriggled, her screams muffled by a mouthful of wires. She squirmed, stomach knotting with the fear his shifting gears and panels would crush her.

"_Be quiet_," Knock Out hissed, tugging the restraints around her so tightly her face began to turn blue. The young racer whimpered in pain, beginning to see spots in her vision. Once her struggling ceased, the medic loosened the vice-grip around her diaphragm, but only a little. "So much as one more squeak and I'll rip out your vocalizer with my—…"

"_**Knock Out**_," a dark voice rasped, cutting the CMO off mid-sentence.

Immediately he froze, slowly twisting around in time to see the large, ominous form of the Decepticon leader storming down the corridor toward him, each clanging footstep a war drum growing in volume. Rays of violet light flashed harshly off of the warlord's armor, his shoulder spikes rising aggressively. The doctor swept into a low, respectful bow before feeling murderous red optics bore holes into his frame.

"My liege," Knock Out murmured in response, not daring to raise his gaze. "I—…"

"_**Silence**_," Megatron hissed, "I will hear _none_ of your excuses. After noticing the lack of activity in the med bay, Soundwave reported you absent for almost an entire _Earth cycle_. Neglecting your duties in favor of a midnight racing excursion is _hardly_ a wise decision."

"I-It will not happen again, I assure you-!"

"Oh, you can be assured for certain, _**Knock Out**_, that I will not allow you to set foot outside the med bay until you can even _remotely_ prove your worth to me as a medical officer. Your assistant has shown _far_ more promise and diligence in his work as of late, and it is beginning to make me reconsider your position as a soldier of the Decepticon army…"

Dread twisted inside Knock Out's circuits at the implications of his lord's statement, spark hammering wildly enough he was sure the human could feel it. Her lanky form had gone entirely still within his chassis, breath coming out in shaky gasps. He could sense her trembling, her gut-wrenching fear intermingling with his own. The medic could only hope and pray to Primus that the tyrant did not register the extra bio-signal.

Megatron paced closer, his sharp, pointy digits wrapping tightly around the doctor's throat cables and yanking him harshly to his feet. "Do I make myself _**clear?!**_"

"A-Absolutely," the medic sputtered. His own hands clawed meagerly at Megatron's, silently pleading the warlord to release him before he crushed something delicate.

"You should consider this a last and final warning," Megatron growled, "The only reason I am sparing your miserable life is the fact we are rather short-staffed in the medical department. There will come a day when I am not feeling quite so _generous_…"

Knock Out only nodded quickly in response, not daring to breathe one word into the tense silence that hung in the air between them. Much to his discomfort, the flesh-bag had begun to squirm again inside his chassis, creating a very unpleasant tickling sensation. Warning signs popped up into his field of vision, indicating the presence of the organic life form nearby. A small beeping sensor read off her heart rate and vitals. He cursed himself inwardly for not turning off the blasted device sooner, especially when he noticed Decepticon leader's optics widen slightly at the sound.

"You're oddly quiet," the tyrant remarked. One large curved eyebrow arched upward. "You're not hiding something, _are you?_"

"Of course not, my liege! What on Cybertron could I possibly be keeping from y-AAAAHHHH!"

Without warning, Megatron plunged the claws of his free hand into the doctor's abdominal plating. Bending the metal plates apart, the warlord proceeded to rip through layers of wires and delicate circuitry until his digits closed around a solid object—or rather, solid _creature_.

"What is this?" the warlord growled, extracting his hand from the ravaged circuitry of his soldier. A tall, skinny human thrashed in his grip, long strands of yellow hair plastered to its body by energon. Given its flatter shape the gladiator struggled to distinguish its 'model'—gender. However, when the flesh-bag emitted a high-pitched shriek and demanded for the 'Bucket-Head' to release her immediately, that knowledge quickly became apparent. A quick squeeze of the skeleton constricted the air from the girl's lungs yet again, forcing her into silence. At once the little parasite stopped moving. "That's better," he purred.

Knock Out's faceplates twisted in pain, his vision blurring in absolute agony as the tyrant retracted his digits with a sickening _crunch! _Knee joints creaking, the medic's legs gave out almost immediately. He collapsed onto the cold slate of the _Nemesis_, cycling in air quickly and shallowly. Primus, everything hurt. Energon pooled beneath him, staining the grey with blue. _'I'm in deep slag now…and so is the state of my chassis…' _he thought dryly, _'I wonder if Unicron would be willing to buff me himself in the Pit…'_

"So, it appears you've been harboring yet another secret from me after all," Megatron stated, pulling the doctor out of his thoughts, "Have you anything to say for _this?_"

"Sir, it isn't what it looks like—…" Knock Out started, lifting one hand in defense. The other curled protectively over the open wound in his chassis.

"_This_," the tyrant growled, thrusting the form of the girl toward him, "Is _exactly_ what it looks like. A human. A flesh-ling! And not one of the Autobots' little comrades either… Tell me, Knock Out, did you fancy having a little pet of your own so badly that you had to steal one off of the street?"

"Rot in _Hell_," the girl rasped, "If you're planning to cook and eat me with the rest of your alien buddies, I hope you choke on my bones, you overgrown rust-bucket…"

"And it has a mouth just like yours. Fancy that…" Megatron dangled the girl by one of her legs, holding her out at arm's length with lip-plates curled in distaste as if he were examining an insect. "How _fitting_. Such a delicate species, don't you think, doctor? What a shame it would be if it were to fall."

The young racer's eyes went wide in fear, going pale at the sight of the long drop beneath her. She suddenly felt the urge to empty her stomach, but refrained from doing so. These aliens only wanted to torment her. They wouldn't kill her immediately…right? However, just as she stared into the blood-colored, white-centered eyes of death, something told her _this_ one would. Fear turned to ice in her veins. Any retort she had prepared suddenly died in the back of her throat.

"I kidnapped the flesh-bag because three of those blasted Autobots were trailing me!" Knock Out exclaimed defensively. "They wouldn't risk harming me if I were holding a skin-job captive."

"Your carelessness could have just as easily led them _**onto my ship**_ through the ground bridge," Megatron hissed. "You have been deciding to take more _breaks _than usual. To visit your _pet_, I assume. And for what purpose?"

"Maintenance," Knock Out confessed, "The skin-job wrecked into me, and promised a month of free service if it lost to me in a race!"

"How typical," his leader rumbled, "Well, you've created quite the mess, _Knock Out_. If you take the human back, she would no doubt fall straight into the hands of the Autobots, full of information to feed to the flesh-ling government. What do you plan to do with her, _doctor? _I suppose there is nothing left to do but take out the _**trash**_."

Feeling the tyrant's grip on her loosen, Avery yelped, trying to scramble up and hook her arms around one of his large digits so she would not fall. Despite her efforts, she could not move quickly enough in time to gain a hold as the Deception released her. He grinned hard through sharp teeth at her as she plummeted, eyes wide and mouth wrenched open in a silent scream. _Shit…this is it! _

Every muscle in her body tensed, bracing for impact. However, when she opened her eyes, no fluffy white clouds or golden pearly gates greeted her. Only shiny, perfectly polished silver claws and the wide red optics of an alien doctor. The human released a shaky bout of air, staring back at him with wide, confused eyes. _You caught me. You didn't let me die. Why?_

"There is no need for such…harsh measures, my liege," Knock Out rasped, his voice strangled through the pain of moving so quickly to catch the human with his abdominal wound. The exertion caused his arm to tremble slightly. More warning signals flashed in his vision—he was losing energon too quickly.

"Well, then what do you propose?" Megatron asked smoothly.

"Perhaps we can keep her until we can think of a better alternative…She can assist me in the med bay," the doctor explained quickly, "She can do surface repairs decently, and reach places I can't get to as easily. I will teach her to repair the inner workings of our biology… Please consider it, Lord Megatron. Killing the skin-job will only provoke Autobot hostility towards us. With our scarce energon rations we are not as prepared for an attack…"

Avery's eyebrows shot up, and suddenly she jerked upwards, peering over the medic's claws. "Wait…_WHAT_?"

"I will consider it if the flesh-ling would be willing to give a…demonstration of said abilities," the tyrant purred. He turned to the adjacent corridor, calling, "_**Breakdown**_."

There was a sudden sharp clanging sound, and a loud raucous cacophony as a menagerie of very heavy, very sharp medical instruments clattered to the ground inside the med bay. As the med bay doors shifted open, the large blue mech emerged, his yellow optics wide as he saluted. "Yes, Sir?"

"Bring out the necessary medical supplies. Knock Out is in a bit of a _predicament_."

"Yes, Sir, but we are running low on-…is that a _human?_" the wrecker suddenly asked, incredulous.

"Never mind the flesh-ling. Do as I command," the Decepticon leader growled, impatient.

"O-Of course," Breakdown mumbled, disappearing into the med bay only to reemerge with an armful of semi-identifiable tools.

The human's eyes went wide. They expected her to do _what _with all this, exactly? As the blue mech placed the supplies down next to her, the tyrant grinned once more, saying, "Now, human. If you are so skilled as our doctor claims you to be, this should be an easy endeavor for you. Repair his wound."

"B-But…" Avery stammered. As her eyes surveyed the tools, she noticed with dread that she could only lift about a third of them—only the 'small' ones, tweezers, small clamps, and the like. "Don't you have anything _smaller_?"

"Good medical officers know how to improvise," the Decepticon leader purred.

"The clamps, skin-job," Knock Out gasped, clutching his wound desperately, "Use the-…"

"Silence," Megatron growled, "If the human is competent she will figure this out on her own."

Avery swallowed nervously, glancing from the doctor's wound to the large pile of medical instruments. Upon closer inspection of Knock Out's abdomen, she could make out engine components beneath. Their placements were separated strangely, but through the ravaged metal she could see the source of the problem—a few severed tubes leaking transmission fluid and a strange blue substance. What had they called it? Energon?

_That must be their blood_, she thought wryly. Rummaging through the heavy junk, her fingers closed around a large pair of forceps nearly her height in length. "I guess if I can dissect a frog, I can repair a giant alien robot," she huffed under her breath. "Here goes nothing."

Three pairs of optics watched her closely as she clambered up onto Knock Out's lap, hefting the forceps behind her. Heaving with all her strength, she managed to angle them just where she needed them, struggling to spread open the metal so she could crawl inside. Knock Out hissed sharply, his faceplates contorting in pain. She winced at the sound, but continued, locking them in place so she could get to work.

Quickly she ran back to the tool pile, extracting a few clamps the size of her hands as well as a large probe. Using it as a staff, she climbed back up and into the Aston Martin's circuitry, trying not to slip on the sleek metal. She pushed clumps of wires and other things out of her way as she reached the severed tubing, careful to avoid being electrocuted from the sparks gushing off of his armor.

_It's just like fixing an oil leak…a giant oil leak… _she reminded herself. Working quickly, Avery grabbed the two ends of the severed wire, moving to secure one of the clamps around it. It was a temporary solution, but would keep him from bleeding out. Just as she secured the other four wires, a gust of hot, dry air enveloped her. More sparks gushed off of his armor, the metal now searing hot to the touch. It burned her hands as she tried to move a few of his engine components back into place with the probe.

"Oh no…" she muttered. "Knock Out, what's happening?!"

No answer came, except a few more low notes of pain from the medic. She would have to think fast. Adrenaline thrumming in her veins, the racer rushed out, gritting her teeth against the searing burn of the metal around her. She welcomed the cool air of the ship on her sweat-drenched skin. Spotting the large blue mech, she called out, "Hey, you! Big Blue guy! I need your help! Grab that welding tool and seal off those clamped valves, will ya? I can't reach them without getting third degree burns!"

Breakdown looked from the girl to Megatron for confirmation. Was their leader seriously considering bringing on board a flesh-bag to aid in the med bay? Surely the dark energon had finally gotten to his ancient processor after all. However, the look in the tyrant's eyes showed that he clearly intended to see this through, to make Knock Out suffer for neglecting his duty and kidnapping the girl in the first place. The warlord shrugged his massive shoulder spikes, watching the scene with amusement. "What are you waiting for, Breakdown?" he taunted. "You've been given an order."

"All right…Out of the way, squirt," Breakdown grunted, leaning down and grabbing the welder, doing as instructed to seal off Knock Out's wounds.

"Thanks," Avery huffed, smiling up at him. She couldn't believe her luck in this actually working, even if it was only a mediocre job on her part. Feeling the alien warlord's red gaze on her form, she immediately rushed back to work. Grabbing a large cloth from the pile, she raced back over to Knock Out, dabbing the blue stains from his legs and abdominal plating. She barely managed to catch the forceps Breakdown handed back to her, stumbling back toward the pile to return them. Nevertheless—they were making progress.

The blue mech did most of the hard work, sealing the medic up with ease. Knock Out hissed in pain, cycling out air in ragged pants, hiding his faceplate in one hand to stifle any more notes of agony at surgery with no anesthetic. '_At least Breakdown knows what he's doing…_' the medic thought hastily. Seeing his discomfort, Avery paused in cleanup duty to rub small circles on his leg plating with her slim fingers. "You're doing just fine, pretty boy," she said, "It's almost over."

"How _cute_," Megatron sneered, grinning maliciously.

Knock Out's optics wrenched open at the sudden contact, peering down at the flesh-bag with distaste. They narrowed into a hard glare at her words, and his leader's amused expression. How _humiliating!_ How dare she speak to him as though he were a sniveling, injured sparkling in need of comfort? He was a powerful, sleek Decepticon soldier, not some defenseless, squishy creature like _her!_ Raising two claws, he flicked the girl away lightly, growling, "Don't. Touch. _Me_."

"GAH!" Despite the medic's lack of power behind the movement, Avery felt as though she'd just been hit by a bullet train. The force knocked her back, sending her tumbling head over heels and onto her back with a painful _thud!_ Rubbing the back of her head—oh, _that_ felt like it was going to bruise—she sat up slowly, vision blurring with spots at the pain. When it cleared once more, she glared daggers at the doctor. "You know what? _Fuck you_."

"No _thanks_," the doctor spat right back. Frag it to the _Pit_ if he was being childish. After being nearly scrapped by Arcee, tailed by Autobots, gutted by his leader, and violated medically by a flesh-bag, he had had _enough_.

Avery's blood boiled, her face flushing crimson in anger, but she played right along, uncaring of what these giant robots thought of her. "That's _right_, I bet you'd much rather have a round with Lord Bucket-Head over there. Or perhaps you'd rather bang your assistant. _I can't tell_. You did say something about being able to attract _both_ genders, but I see no chicks on this ship. "

Megatron and Breakdown exchanged glances, the warlord chuckling darkly while the wrecker's faceplate burned in humiliation at what the human was suggesting. "Just _what _are you implying, parasite?!" Knock Out blustered, leaning toward her aggressively. "I just saved your puny _aft_—!"

"What do you _think_?" the human hissed right back. "Why else would you kidnap me to escape from your supposedly 'friendly' enemies that wouldn't dare hurt an innocent life form? Everything about you, your flamboyant attitude, to that bright red paintjob, to you sneaking away from your boss to race against 'inferior life forms'… You're nothing but a starved _attention whore!_"

Knock Out growled menacingly, lashing out and curling his fingers tightly around the girl, jerking her close to his faceplate as he hissed, "The only _whore _I see is the-…"

"Hey," Breakdown interjected into the catfight, looking between the girl and the doctor awkwardly, "It's been a…pressing day on everybody. Let's just take a moment to calm down, okay?"

"Enough of this nonsense," Megatron rumbled. "The flesh-ling has proved she is competent enough to learn at least a bit of _basic _medical knowledge from our kind. As long as she behaves, I approve of using her as slight leverage against the Autobots. She will stay and assist you in the med bay, just as you wished, _Knock Out_. Likewise, since _you _brought her here, she is _your _responsibility. If she slips up once—just once, _**you**_ will be the one to dispose of her as well."

Avery's anger inflated instantly, and she fumed. She was now this asshole's responsibility. A _pet_. "Fine," she grumbled. A nasty smirk crossed her features as she added, "There are a few things you need to know about humans, especially the _females_. We require a few basic things. Food, sleep, showers… And if you want my help with repair, we'll need to acquire a few tools in my _size_. I'll also require transportation to and from my classes at the community college here, and work. Wouldn't want the Autobots to _suspect _anything, now would we?"

"Do not speak to me as if you were above me," Knock Out hissed, "You will leave from this ship when _I _say you can…"

"Correction," Megatron interjected, "When _I _deem it necessary. Which is now. We are wasting time. Take the flesh-ling to retrieve what she needs. Breakdown will accompany you in case she tries to escape. And get her cleaned up, while you're at it. She'll on infect the other injured patients covered in filth and energon."

The warlord turned, heading to exit the sector. Before the doors hissed shut behind him, he paused, grinning over his shoulder. "Have _fun_, doctor."

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave me a review! Let me know what you thought! Was this in character? I know Lord Megs wouldn't accept a flesh-bag on such light terms. He's leaving her to Knock Out as punishment. Tell me what you thought! Pretty please?**

**-KM**

**Review! Review! Review!**


	7. VII: A Rebel's Yell

Overdrive

**A/N: Thank you to bratdeanna, vampireyautja, zrexheartz, StormRaven333, Mistress Megatron, sckid, Phoenix-164, kamiccolo's rose, DemonMamoru, andshecryz, and Guest for reviewing! I really appreciate it! **

**Note: This chapter is a bit uneventful in terms of action, but more is coming up soon! I just needed to add some filler to keep the story flowing. Please tell me if anyone is out of character! I rushed this a little.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro.**

* * *

_She don't like slavery, she won't sit and beg_

_He lives in his own heaven_

_Collects it to go from the seven eleven_

_When he's out all night to collect a fare_

_Just so long as it don't mess up his hair_

_-Billy Idol, "Rebel Yell"_

_**Chapter 7: A Rebel's Yell**_

"Lord Megatron, you can't _seriously _considering keeping a flesh-bag around the ship. I don't entirely mean to question the chain of command around here, but are you out of your _processing unit_?"

Sharp denta glinted dangerously under the dim light of the _Nemesis _central command center. A low, ominous chuckle filled the silence that followed the ex-wrecker's question. The warlord trained his red optics on Breakdown with an amused smile, pacing toward the blue mech with ease as he replied, "Are you that easily threatened by the presence of a mere flesh-ling, Breakdown?"

"No, Sir, but it seems rather out of character for you to keep pets," Breakdown rumbled in response. "In addition to parading her around town to all of her functions, I'm guessing we'll have to get her a leash and an exercise wheel then, huh?"

The tyrant's large, curvilinear optic ridges drew together, his scarred lip plates twisting into a nasty grin. "Do you take me for a fool? You mistake my intentions. The human is but a mere insect to be _squashed_."

Breakdown blinked slowly, regarding the Decepticon leader with careful optics. He shifted, not wishing to completely provoke the warlord's rage by speaking his thoughts aloud. When he first saw the girl on board the ship, the sight had stunned him too much to react, and he merely went along with the situation to repair Knock Out. However, this crossed the line with the blue mech. The ex-wrecker had absolutely _no _intention of allowing a mere insect to boss him around as if he were its inferior! He already took enough of that from Knock Out, but the vain mech was his comrade of war, and best friend—not some puny alien life form.

"And those intentions would be what, exactly? ...Sir?" he asked.

"I thought it would be obvious, even to the likes of you. Knock Out has missed countless shifts to race a group of _humans_. I tire of his insolence. If he has a pet of his own to track down and take care of constantly, he will begin to understand how much of a hindrance he has been to the crew as of late. I am merely giving our doctor a taste of his own _medicine_." The tyrant chuckled darkly at his own pun.

"If there's anything I know about Knock Out, it is that his patience only extends so far," Breakdown remarked. "I doubt he'll last long playing babysitter."

"Precisely," Megatron rasped through a grin. "He will tire of the little pest, and will see to its destruction rather quickly…"

"That is, if the Vehicons don't get to it first," Breakdown added with a slight grimace. "I don't know about you, Sir, but I don't take well to the thought of one of those fleshies crawling around inside my circuitry." Few things made the wrecker shudder, but that thought definitely made his tank churn.

"Fret not," Megatron smirked. "It is but a matter of time until the medic snaps…in one way or another."

* * *

"_Welcome to the Jungle! We got the fun and games! We're got everything you want, honey, we know the names!"_

"Princess, you've been blasting my audios out with that scrap for the entire ride over here. Don't make me tell you twice. Turn it down."

"_In the jungle…welcome to the jungle~ Welcome to the jungle, watch it bring you to your_…_"_

"Cybertron to Blondie: TURN IT DOWN."

"… _SHUNNANANANANANANA KNEEEES KNEEEEES! I'M GONNA WATCH YOU BLEED!"_

"FLESHBAG!"

The infernal human only turned the dial of his radio to a louder volue, the rock music vibrating almost painfully through his speakers. Her voice cracked as she belted the lyrics to Guns N' Roses at the strongest volume her strained vocal cords would allow, the chorus grating like nails on a chalkboard to the poor medic's tortured audios.

With an annoyed rumble, Knock Out quickly seized control over the radio, switching it to something much less carnal and spirited than rock, but just as intense, as he shot across the interstate leading into Jasper. _'Let's see how the little pest enjoys this…' _

"_CALL 9-1-1 NOW!_" a child's voice screeched over the radio.

Thunderous bass blasted through the speakers, wracking the entire frame of the Aston Martin. The violent noise was quickly followed by a menagerie of squealing high notes and chaotic staccato chirps. Avery's hands immediately clapped over her ears, trying to drown out the sudden onslaught of heavy dubstep vibrating and rattling into her skeleton with a vengeance.

No matter how she struggled and wriggled in place, hissing at him to turn it down, the medic did not decrease the volume of the radio until last notes of the song faded. Avery sat up shakily, stars and little splotches of color filling her vision. Her brain pounded and rattled inside her skull, her previous good humor evaporating entirely.

"SRKILLEX? Really?" the young racer grumbled irritably, massaging her temples.

"Granted, while this slag pales in comparison to Cybertronian music, it is slightly more preferable to what you were playing earlier. Are we ready to _behave_?" the medic slurred, the smirk evident in his voice.

"Just drive," Avery mumbled, leaning back in the seat and glaring out the window. "My apartment's just around the corner. Third one on the left."

"Oh, so you don't live in that shed of yours? My, I'm surprised~"

"Not all of us have access to a giant alien warship," the blonde replied, climbing out of the Aston Martin and fumbling with her keys for the door.

The cherry-haired hologram materialized on cue, smirking at her from behind an expensive pair of dark shades, adding, "Or style, for that matter~"

"Flashy is trashy," Avery stated, not missing a beat as she stepped into the apartment, suddenly very aware of his glare drilling silent holes into her back. She turned to face the fuming medic, shoving her hands in her pockets as she asked, "You coming or what?"

Knock Out huffed, following after her but surveying the area with a critical gaze. The skin-job kept her place relatively clean, but the entire area was decorated like a grungy side-road restaurant. Countless posters and pictures of old cars lined the walls, plastered up alongside dirty old license plates and cheap neon signs that read things like 'Budweiser' and 'Ford.' "What is all of this junk?" he asked, eyeing the frumpy old furniture and 90's-style TV with distaste.

"What did you expect out of a college student, flat screens and an indoor pool?" the racer said with a grin as she headed upstairs, "Besides, I like old stuff. It has character. C'mon.

Knock Out grumbled, eyeing trudging up the stairs after the girl. His hologram turned to the wall, choosing to snoop around the human's room out of boredom while she gathered her tools and things as she began to sort through clothes and mechanical supplies scattered about on every flat surface imaginable.

"There are many unsettling things about your planet, not to mention your sense of style," he added as he watched her pack sets of nearly identical T-shirts and holey jeans. "You know, most human femmes I've noticed have at least a little variety in what they put on their bodies."

"What are you, the fashion police?" the racer asked, arching an eyebrow. "Look, I'm sorry that I snapped and blurted all that stuff about you sleeping with your boss earlier. That was really immature and stupid, but I'm not looking for a crash course in how to be fabulous."

"Just hurry up," Knock Out said, his hologram flopping back onto her bed and staring up at the ceiling, his arms folded behind his head. "If Lord Megatron does not find me in the med bay by sundown…well, let's just say it won't be pretty when we return to the ship."

"Is there anything pretty about that old bag of bolts?" Avery called over her shoulder with a grin.

"Not really," the medic mumbled, smirking slightly. He glanced over at her dresser, picking up the nearest picture frame and twisting it to get a better view of the figures in the photo. "Is this your sire?"

"Say what?"

"Progenitor, creator… What do the humans call them—er…parental units?"

"Yep," the racer replied with a big smile as she zipped a bag of tools closed. "That's my dad all right. He's a cool guy. Taught me everything I know about cars. Right now he's stationed to fly cargo planes in Afghanistan for the military."

"Where's your other 'dad'? Don't humans usually have two?"

The racer snickered, taking the photo away from him and arranging it back into place, "My _Mom_, you mean? I don't really have one…present. I was kind of a 'fling'. Military life doesn't always give you the luxury of settling down." Despite the subject of conversation, the human didn't seem very upset or perturbed about it, merely accepting of the fact she stated. She still wore a slight smile as she stared at various images spread out across her dresser.

"How tragic," Knock Out said indifferently, "Such a strange thing, really—this birth and aging process your species possesses..." he continued absentmindedly as his hologram thumbed through various things in her drawers. Primus, humans certainly had a knack for collecting and hoarding a lot of useless junk: empty CD cases, old crumpled up holiday cards, hair ties, old gel pens….

"Your species doesn't have parents or kids or anything?" Avery asked in surprise, glancing back at the Decepticon.

"Our sparks are crafted from the Well of All-Sparks by Primus himself, and then placed into unique proto-forms we receive when we come online. Through the earliest stages of life we generally have parental-like figures, but it's not quite the same. However, it has been eons since a new Cybertronian came into being. Many believe that Primus died with our planet when we ravaged it through the war," the medic explained.

"What about falling in love and that sort of thing? Wait, slow down. Who's Primus? Your god? Wouldn't that make him a 'father' of sorts?" the human asks suddenly as she worked, her mind riddled with questions.

"Our species may be different, but not in _that_ regard. Cybertronians take mates and interface when we find the time for it. And Primus is not a god, necessarily-a grand creator is more like it. He was the first of our race, formed within the internal mechanisms of our planet. He evolved over time as a supreme being. Though highly revered, he actually existed within the planet beneath us. He was not a mere idea crafted by feeble minds in an attempt to control an entire people," the CMO added haughtily as he continued his perusal of her drawer, "I have been browsing the web on some of your world religions. You humans are imaginative, I'll give you that."

"Wow, you could make a pretty awesome space trilogy out of that backstory," Avery said with her trademark crooked grin, "And who knows? No one can really tell what's out there, anyway unless if we make a time machine, or somehow commandeer the Tardis."

"The what?"

The younger racer snickered, waving a hand dismissively, "Never mind."

Suddenly, the medic found his fingers curling around something soft. He pulled it out, examining the object with great interest. It appeared to be a poorly designed slingshot of some sort, with small cushioning holders for the object of choice. "What in the world is this? You skin jobs make your slingshot weapons out of the strangest materials…"

"What are you-…HEY! GIVE ME THAT!"

In an instant, the human snatched the mysterious object out of Knock Out's hands, wadding it up and shoving it deep into her bag of clothing. Her exothermic layer—_skin_, the medic reminded himself—had flushed a bright shade of pink as she quickly threw both bags over her shoulders and grunted, "Let's go. Now."

"I understand you're embarrassed over the fact your species creates such laughably useless devices, but there is no need to be so defensive—…"

"Knock Out," she hissed, "That isn't a weapon. It's. Called. A. _Bra_. It's a garment a human 'femmes' uses to keep her _chi-chi's _in line so they don't _mamba _their way into her daily business and become annoying. And for the love of god, do _not ask me what that means_."

Instead of pressing her for more information, a quick search of the World Wide Web provided the medic with everything he never needed to know. As disgusted as he was by human anatomy and biological functions, the girl's startled reactions amused him. "Underneath all of that stubborn and daring exterior I hardly expected to find such a shy, innocent prude," he snickers. "Why are some humans so afraid of their own anatomy?"

Avery's cheeks flushed darker, her voice rising in pitch as she exclaimed, "I'm not innocent or prudish; I just don't like talking about it. Especially with_ alien males!_"

"Well," Knock Out said smugly, "I do hope you are capable of bracing yourself." His hologram watched her heave her bags quickly downstairs and out toward his alt. mode. "In order to assist me in the med bay with proper repairs, you will have to learn quite a bit about Cybertronian anatomy… Not to worry, it is not entirely that different from your own."

As she closed the trunk and climbed back into the passenger's side, the human appeared positively green. Avery was not squeamish, by any means. She loved horror movies. As a kid, she played in the mud and chased bugs; as an adult, she could care less about being covered in oil and gasoline after working in the garage. However, as an only child raised by a single father, she had little time to really think about or dwell on the opposite sex.

Or perhaps it was merely the oddity of discussing human anatomy and sexuality with an evil alien doctor that made her uncomfortable. Either way, the human found herself mumbling, "Can we please change the subject?"

"Well, since you asked nicely~" Knock Out smirked. "…however, if you wish to survive on the _Nemesis_ for more than a week, it is expected that you learn quickly. Otherwise you'll wind up on my dissection table. And I must say, as disgusting as you skin-jobs are, I've always been curious to see what you look like on the inside~ Red is my favorite color, you know…"

A shudder passed down the girl's spine, her shoulders visibly jerking at his statement. She knew he meant every word, could practically feel his sadistic delight dripping from every syllable like sickeningly sweet honey. However, she somehow managed to cover the nervous jolt in her voice with cynicism. "I guess if I can pass high school biology, this should be a piece of cake," the blonde mumbled, staring out the window. The sun had finally begun to set over the Nevada desert, painting the sky various shades of red and orange. She paused, suddenly glancing back at the medic with a strange expression. "Why did you do it?"

Crimson eyes flicked toward her from behind dark lenses. "What did I do?"

"You let me live," the racer mumbled, her voice taking an odd note. Her gaze drifted toward the window again—distant, confused, thoughtful. Long, thin fingers twisted the chain around her neck absentmindedly. "Why?"

A silence passed between the two of them, awkward tension building on the premise of unanswered questions. The answer should have been obvious to the stupid girl—it was a spur of the moment decision. Megatron had used her to bait him for racing, and to force him into cooperation; the medic couldn't let his leader wield such influence over him by toying with his possessions. The flesh-bag was his and his alone to kill and dispose of whenever _he_ tired of her. Not Megatron.

The medic suddenly paused in his train of thought, wondering when he had begun to consider the flesh-bag a possession. '_That is what she is. A substitute for when my buffer goes missing,_' he stated mentally.

"I don't have enough lab space available to strap you down and slice you open just yet, skin-job." The medic scoffed, though his response came a bit too late. "Why do you think?"

Avery watched him thoughtfully for a long while, not once pausing to blink. Her mouth didn't curve upward into a smirk, and she didn't crack some lame joke or remark on his behalf. The words that spilled forth from her lips made the metal of his chassis crawl in revulsion. "I think you consider me a friend."

Knock Out recoiled so violently in shock that he had to skid to the side of the road to keep from veering off into the desert. Gravel and debris clouded up around his tires, drifting upward in lazy tendrils against the red sky. A laugh escaped him before he could help himself. "You think we're…_friends? Pals?_ If humans argue this much and make things this difficult for one another in close relationships, then your species is stranger than I originally gave it credit for."

"Well, granted, you're not the most charming, friendly, warm-hearted person I've ever met, but I do consider you one," she stated, glancing at him in a mixture of amusement and deadpan in her expression.

"I'd say I'm perhaps too charming for the likes of-…" Before the medic could respond, the sudden crackle of modified, rattling sports car engines filled the air. Knock Out could sense the vibrations of tires a mile away, even without the obnoxious sound to give away their location. "Well, it certainly sounds like someone needs their carburetors checked."

Avery had gone silent for a moment, glancing back to confirm some silent suspicion. Whatever she saw, she didn't like, because her eyes enlarged considerably as her voice became progressively smaller. "Drive," she squeaked out. "For the love of God or Buddha or Primus, just drive. Like, right now."

"Well, I hate to put a damper on the mood, _princess_, my tires are somewhat _stuck_ at the moment no thanks to the lack of quality road-…"

"Then fix it, and fix it _now_," she urged, her eyes anxious.

"I don't see what you're so worked up about-…"

Knock Out's last remark was abruptly cut off by the sound of squealing tires, and the arrival of three brightly-colored, dented, modified cars next to his alt. mode. The girl had silenced herself completely. He could detect her pulse rate increasing, her body pumping adrenaline rapidly through her veins.

His hologram turned to raise an eyebrow at her, questioning, "What is it now? A bad ex?"

"No, smartass," the blonde growled, unusually tense. She struggled to form coherent sentences as she stumbled over her words. "In street racing, we make money by betting money. If you don't pay up, shit happens. A banged up car is the least of it. And I was going to get my paycheck today and return what I lost to those idiots a week ago before you decided to drop in cause a scene at KO Burger! They're going to rearrange my face if they see me in here!" She exclaimed, attempting to make herself smaller by ducking down into the seat.

"That is your own fault, princess. And don't give me that look. No matter how much of an expert you believe yourself to be on racing, you lost. And you dug your own slag pile pretty deep this time. And Megatron thinks _I'm _a narcissist~…"

"You arrogant piece of-!" Before Avery could finish her thought, she quickly thought better of it and lowered her voice. "They might recognize your car since we've been seen together more than once…oh shit…they stopped.. Shitshitshit—Put a hologram over me! Disguise me or something! Make me invisible-!"

"Calm down," Knock Out interjected, glancing from the hilariously cowering girl to the three poor excuses for sports cars parked next to them. Three or four burly human males climbed out, one or two with a scantily clad girl on his arm. The musky reek of beer, gasoline, and cigarettes filled the atmosphere, and the Aston Martin couldn't help but gag as their oily, sweaty bodies approached. _'Primus, why must organics be so disgusting?'_

Nevertheless, the medic forced himself to roll down the window and greet the repulsive organics with his usual slick smile, turning up the charm. He needed to end this, and quickly. The sun was already setting, and Megatron would expect him in the med-bay in a mere half hour. He had already compromised his aft enough for one cycle! "Good evening~ Is there something I can do for you fine femmes and…" The mech probed his brain for the correct Earth phrase, "… gentlemen?"

"Nice car, hot shot," one of the 'femme fatales' murmured, her voice dripping in innuendo as she leaned over to get a better look at Knock Out's hologram. Her obnoxious voice only was only accentuated by the popping of pepto-bismol-pink bubblegum between smoke-yellowed teeth. It took the medic a large amount of self-control not to sneer or recoil back in disgust as she blocked most of his view with the tops of her large, fleshy mounds. '_And human mechs are attracted to those…why? There's so…squishy…Euuugh!_'

"That's enough, Montana," one of the burly men growled, jerking her back a bit too harshly for comfort as he leaned down at got into the red 'Con's face. His lips peeled back to reveal a smile full of crooked teeth, his eyes full of malice and a sick kind of amusement as he spoke. "Evenin', yourself, fag. You've got a pretty flashy ride here that I wouldn't mind challenging for a spin some time, but that's not the reason we're here. Your little friend there owes us some bettin' money. Two weeks overdue. And my boys don't take those things lightly."

Avery shot up immediately, her eyes large and full of a fear she struggled to hide as she quickly stammered, "Look, dude, I swear I was going to get my paycheck today. You've gotta give me more time-…"

"I'm sure something can be arranged in due time, but Blondie has places she needs to be," Knock Out interrupted them both, waving one hand dismissively, "I'm afraid your little deadline can wait another week."

The muscle-stuffed flesh-bag had the nerve to reach in and grab the medic's hologram by the collar of his jacket, jerking them nose to nose. "You stay out of this. This is between us and Bishop. You got that?"

"Back off!" Avery growled, pulling Knock Out's hologram back toward her. The force of her grip nearly sent the medic tumbling into her lap—primus, she was stronger than she looked—but she didn't notice. Her eyes never left the other man's as she calmed her voice and stuttered out, "I-I'll race you for it. All or nothing. I'll give you my car if we don't win. The whole thing. It's in good condition, it's back at KO Burger where I last left it. You can do whatever the hell you want with it. I don't care. But if we win, you pay me in full. Whaddya say?"

The other man shifted, considering. He smirked, folding his large arms together in thought. "I think you're bullshitting us out of our money again, Bishop. You've got a bad track record for lying and making a run for it when you're in deep shit. Besides, how are you gonna race us all with no car?"

Avery glanced to Knock Out, her eyes pleading silently as she stated, "Knock Out. You cool if I borrow yours? Just this once?"

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think to consider them, "No. Never. Nein. Zip. Denied. No. Way," he annunciated quickly. "Why in all of Cybertron would I let you-…?!"

And suddenly, it clicked. '_She's asking me to do it. She wants to see what I can really do._' A slow smile crept over the medic's lips, and he turned back to the repulsive human male with a glint in his hologram's eyes as he slurred, "Meet us at the trench north of Jasper in thirty."

* * *

**A/N: So, pretty uneventful chapter. But in the next one, we get some more racing action! Sorry if anyone seemed a bit out of character, I struggled a lot with writing this chapter and getting it finished. Hope you still enjoyed! Please leave me your comments, good or bad, I want to read them all! Thank you!**

**-KM**

**Review! Review! Review!**


End file.
